


Second impression

by vanishing_apples



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Mindless Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_apples/pseuds/vanishing_apples
Summary: In which Freyr saves a man from his pet magical hog and Grimnir makes a new friend. Tea drinking ensues in between.





	Second impression

Freyr certainly hadn’t expected to make acquaintance with the wind primarch’s honoured disciple like this. The famed god of war, who wrought havoc on countless battlefields and ferried victory on his wings of swift gales, was quite unceremoniously pinned under Gullinbursti before the golden gate of his abode.

None would have thought the silver-haired youth, whose every physical feature exuded a delicate refinement, was capable of such undignified sounds.

“How dare you, uncouth beast! To think you have the gall to trifle with the god of- no no no not the bandages!! Come on gimme a break alreadyyyy…!” 

Grimnir broke into a string of incoherent, high-pitched whines as Gullinbursti merrily chewed away at a stray strip of bandage dangling off his right arm. 

Freyr didn’t understand. With strength such as Grimnir’s, could he not simply shove the beast off with a strong squall at his command? Why would the wind primarch’s successor choose to be trapped under some lower ranking primal’s steed?

“Ack! Freyr!” - Grimnir panicked upon noticing Freyr as his head turned to dodge a lick to the nose. Colour swiftly drained from his face - “G-greetings, my noble comrade of the golden gusts! Pleased to make your acquaintance. Uh… contrary to what this unorthodox spectacle may lead you to assume of my plight, there is actually none to be had so…”

Freyr wasn’t confident he caught all that. There was _what_ now? Perhaps as a high-ranking primal, Grimnir’s manner of speech was simply beyond his comprehension. To further add to his confusion, the man was...posing? Forming some odd sign with his hand, the symbolic significance of which was, unfortunately, also lost on him.

Befuddled, Freyr could only respond with a blank stare.

“Uh… What I mean is I’m totally not in trouble! So…”

More awkward silence crept in between them, periodically punctured by the sound of Gullinbursti’s jaws grinding at Grimnir’s shoulder plate. 

“...But I’m afraid I won’t be of much nutritional value to your magnificent friend here, so if you could just…”

“...”

“...Command him to stop? For his own well-being, of course! The mighty Grimnir needs not be rescued!”

To Freyr’s knowledge, Gullinbursti was capable of digesting just about everything it consumed. Even a slender wind primal should pose no challenge. 

Meanwhile, the beast had taken a liking to the texture of Grimnir’s fine hair and grabbed between its teeth a fat lock of it - a sight Freyr could not help but watch with mild amusement. 

“PLEASE!!” - Defeated, Grimnir’s cry was nothing short of distilled desperation.

Freyr still didn’t quite understand the issue, but felt obligated to heed the wind primarch’s disciple’s request. Gullinbursti lifted itself away from its ‘meal’ and rushed to its master’s side upon his beckoning. Though he was certain no harm had come to Grimnir, Freyr offered him a hand to get to his feet. 

“Thanks…” - Grimnir avoided Freyr’s gaze, hastily wiping the corners of his eyes. - “Aaaaahh…! I failed at another first impression! This is so uncool… Can you believe I even cried a little oh man please don’t tell anyone that I cried!!”

“...You cried?” - Freyr mumbled. He had thought the tears were from Gullinbursti giving Grimnir a mighty tickling session, as was one of the beast’s habits for entertainment.

“I what?” - Grimnir blinked. 

Freyr sighed through his nose. This was the reason he had never been keen on conversation. Speaking loud enough for the ears of most simply required too much conscious effort.

“...Cried.” - He tried again with increased volume.

“...Oh. Wait, you couldn’t tell?? I-I mean no!! Hah! What makes you think I, god of war, the mad cyclone forbearing decisive triumph which sweeps the war-torn landscape in dance, would succumb to such a menial predicament to such a degree as to… to…”

Grimnir seemed to choke on his own tongue to a halt. Understandable, as Freyr had yet to hear anyone spout words at neither a speed nor volume that would come close to rivaling his. Though the prolonged pause might have been more indicative of hesitance.

“...Cry?” - Freyr finished his tangent for him.

“Aaaaaaaahh!! I didn’t! You didn’t see anything okay!?” 

“...Alright.”

Silence stretched thin between them once more, until Freyr chose to raise his voice for his guest’s sake.

“So… Would you like to come in for tea?” - He threw Grimnir a conversational lifeline.

“Yes!” - It was seized with near excessive fervour.

\---

Freyr had prepared himself for the draining presence Grimnir would pose, but ultimately found in him astonishingly pleasant company. For someone so boisterous, he could not have easily guess Grimnir was an avid reader. Their conversation, then, was of genuine mutual interest over Freyr’s book collection rather the than exchanges of stale tolerance which he had anticipated.

Well, ‘exchanges’ may be a stretch for a description, as Grimnir did most of the talking. But this, too, was something that Freyr surprisingly appreciated. Once he grew accustomed to navigating through gratuitous prose and sudden bouts of animated theatrics to grasp the substance of Grimnir’s words, anyway. But more importantly, he was spared the trouble of speaking himself.

“So you see, I was so upset that at the ends of such grueling trials and tribulations, they are only met with death! Don’t you think it’s unfair, too!? The protagonist speaks of vengeance for the murder of his beloved and yet, we never even see the villainous fiends punished!” 

Grimnir passionately threw another heaping spoonful of sugar into his cup, followed by more milk. Freyr eyed the pale tan liquid with morose defeat. Perhaps he ought to contribute to the discussion, if only to distract himself from the brutality his high-grade blend was taking under Grimnir’s hands. 

Seizing the brief pause made available by Grimnir chugging his sugared, tea-flavoured milk, Freyr began.

“As sorrowful as tragedies may be, don’t you think there is still meaning behind them?”

“Oh… What do you mean?” 

Green and pink eyes peeked at him over the rim of Grimnir’s cup, round with curiosity. Freyr was suddenly nervous. No one had ever paid him such undivided attention before, let alone be so eager to hear what he had to say. But he was careful so as not to let anxiety fracture his cool, diplomatic grace. 

“My way of making sense of literary works may differ from yours. But what I understood from that particular tragedy is that death is the protagonists’ ultimate reward. Death, as the great equaliser, has gifted them freedom - which is exactly the object of their pursuit in life.”

Grimnir’s mouth hung agape, attentive eyes never leaving Freyr as if to drink in his every word. The evident enthusiasm was beginning to put a strain on Freyr’s effort to be audible. 

“...I do think there is an unwarranted stigma against death amongst readers of literature. Since… well… it may symbolise many other things aside from woeful annihilation, such as liberation, comfort, new beginnings...” 

Against his endeavours, Freyr’s voice began to taper off into mumbling volume once more. Grimnir’s explosive, vocal expression of awe was thus godsent to his imminent self-humiliation.

“Awesome!! I never thought about it that way. Now I gotta read the whole thing again! Your interpretation is amazing, Freyr!!”

“You flatter me. I merely pay some attention to the technicalities behind a work rather than allowing myself total immersion in the plot…”

“Come again?”

Freyr lifted his gaze from his cup with a sigh, cheeks still warm from being hit by the sudden compliment.

“Thank you.” - Each syllable left his mouth with a decisive weight.

“Oh…” 

Grimnir scratched his head with guilt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so loud as to drown out the voice of his gracious host.

“A-Anyway! I’m suuuper relieved you turned out to be so cool! Lord Raphael told me to ‘go pay respects to the primal in charge of putting that famous crew of skyfarers through their next trial of strength at the ancient battleground’, or something... And I was actually scared out of my pants, y’know! Since you always looked so calm and collected from a distance, it was sort of intimidating.”

Grimnir, _the_ Grimnir, direct subordinate of a primarch, thought _he_ \- a notorious pacifist among their kind - was intimidating? There must’ve been some mistake. Freyr had merely thought himself unapproachable to others, owing to his reluctance to converse and general aloofness. To think someone would take his mannerisms for ‘cool’ behaviour was quite mind-blowing. 

But just as Grimnir’s first impression of him was faulty, it seemed Freyr’s initial assumptions of the man were erroneous as well.

“...I think you are ‘cool’, too.”

“Huh?” - Grimnir was positively dumb-founded, as if the mere idea of someone ever referring to him as ‘cool’ had been inconceivable to him by default.

“I mean it. I have always admired how free and powerful you seem on the battlefield. Being naturally averse to conflict, I can’t even begin to imagine myself having so much fun in combat as you do.”

Seeing how Grimnir was stuttering nonsense without any sign of forming coherent sentences, Freyr continued. 

“But I must admit that prior to today, I was avoiding you - one who bears the title ‘god of war’ - as I am prone to avoiding warfare itself. My apologies for such foolish prejudice. Interacting with you in person has enlightened me as to your amiable nature, which so surprisingly yet wonderfully exists in tandem with your battle prowess… That’s what ‘cool’ means, is it not?”

Grimnir’s ears were practically spewing steam, his cheeks a glaring red and nostrils puffing. The expression was an odd mixture of embarrassment, pride and infectious joy that Freyr could not help but think endearing. 

“O...of course coolness would come naturally to one distinguished as I, Grimnir!! Was there ever any doubt over the fact!? I mean surely, not even the unforgiving chills of the most punishing squalls should dare compare to the degree of coolness that I am capable…!”

Freyr chuckled softly to himself as he waited for Grimnir’s long tangent to deflate into the next odd pause. At this point, he had somewhat understood that excessive speech, specifically flamboyant prose, was how Grimnir process all the intense emotions that his body could barely contain. The wind primarch’s disciple might not have been his ideal sort of company, but still one he would gladly have, if only on account of how entertaining he was to observe.

“...So what I mean is… No one has actually told me that I’m cool to my face before so! I really appreciate that!”

Yes, he wouldn’t mind seeing that sheepish yet somehow blinding smile on a regular basis either, Freyr thought.

“Uh...But that being said. Just out of curiosity, specifically what made you decide that I was cool?”

Freyr brought a hand to his chin, trying to ignore the potent distraction of Grimnir’s expectant gaze as he rummaged through fresh memories. 

“I believe… It was after seeing how you pay Gullinbursti’s safety such heed today, being so careful with him even as you were… uhm… distressed...”

“I-I wasn’t!! Okay...maybe a little… Don’t tell anyone, though!” 

“Yes, of course. But what I mean is it is not might which impresses me. Rather, it is thoughtful abstinence from exercising it from one powerful as yourself that I admire.”

Grimnir was vibrating with excitement where he sat. Sure, he hadn’t expected such an answer, but the way Freyr worded it alone was strangely powerful.

“Oh man, can you get any cooler??”

“Ah… Please, you flatter me.” - Freyr was beginning to feel uncomfortable put on the spot for so long. He hadn’t ever even spoken so much in such a short duration of time before. His throat felt parched and was very appreciative of the nervous sip of lukewarm tea. - “Besides, I still have much to learn to be worthy of praise from you. If only I could...uhm… be half as expressive as you are, for example.”

Grimnir’s eyes widened to the size of the decorative plates sitting on Freyr’s mantelpiece. 

“Are you serious!? Have you listened to yourself, Freyr!? You’re just... effortlessly articulate I’m sorta jealous.” - His lips briefly curled in a childish pout, but were immediate seized by his next idea eager to be vocalised. - “...Though in all honesty, your voice could use some extra volume, I guess.”

“Yes, as I’ve been made aware many times.” - Freyr laughed uneasily.

“Do you use your diaphragm? Come on, we’re gods! There’s no shame in proclaiming ourselves as such and making our presence known!” - Grimnir had stood up from his chair and now had one foot on the low table’s edge. - “Get up, Freyr! We’re gonna practice!!”

Freyr was seconds from panicking at the potential abuse Grimnir’s pointed, steel-plated boot would pose to the table’s glass surface, and was even more ready to decline the offer. But Gullinbursti, comfortably seated in its nest of cushions behind him up to this point, was on its feet and now nudging at Freyr with its snout, urging him to stand up himself. 

“Not you, too!” - He hissed quietly at the beast, who seemed just as eager as Grimnir was for him to partake in this potential tomfoolery.

To Grimnir’s utter delight and against his reluctance, Freyr finally lifted himself off his own chair.

“Good job! Now, pull your shoulders back and puff out your chest. Our bodies must act as chambers through which our voices build resonance!”

Freyr obediently followed Grimnir’s example while feeling ready to dig himself into the floor, feet-first. Next to him, Gullinbursti snorted with approval of his efforts. 

“Then you suck in a deep breath, let it fill your lungs… Like so. And use every ounce of it to project instead of exhaling! LIKE THIS. BEHOLD, THE MIGHT OF THE DANCING WINDSTORM, GRIIIIIIIIMNIIIIR!!”

The walls and marble columns of Freyr’s castle seemed to vibrate with Grimnir’s voice as if coming to life at his rallying. It was Freyr’s turn to have his eyes widen in awe. 

As the last echo waned into stillness, Grimnir huffed out a self-satisfied breath before turning to Freyr, his face full of encouragement and expectation.

“Now you try!”

“Uhm… Alright.” 

Freyr swallowed the lump of anxiety welling up his chest. He could do this. They were in his _home_ with no one else watching. But for some reason,Freyr’s voice seemed stuck halfway up his own throat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Relax. Just say your name, if you’re not used to it yet!” 

Pats to the back from Grimnir did serve to embolden him, if only slightly. Maybe having one foot on the table like he did, too, would give him another morsel of extra courage, Freyr thought.

“Oooooh! Yeah, you look really cool like that!”

“R-really?”

“Of course! Okay, now go!”

“Fr…”

“Go on! You can do it!!”

Freyr was getting vertigo from all the blood rushing to his face, the pounding in his chest too loud and distracting for him to notice how Grimnir was now excitedly clutching at Gullinbursti’s golden mane - an act miraculously tolerated by the beast. All four of their eyes were glued to his every move. 

“Fffree…!!”

Disappointment filled Freyr’s chest at about the same speed as his voice pathetically deflating into nothingness. The shame had proven to be too much, after all. Thankfully, Grimnir’s hand on his back and Gullinbursti rubbing at his side stopped it from growing too exponentially. 

“Ah… It’s okay, we can work on that gradually! And I think that’s as loud as I’ve ever heard you say anything.”

Freyr’s laughter in response was stale, unsure to make good or bad of the comment. 

“Yes, we should have ample time…”

“Wait, does that mean you’re fine with me coming back?”

“Of course?” - Freyr was puzzled as to what made Grimnir feel he had to acquire extra permission for future visits. 

“Like, not once, but twice? And more than that, even??”

“Yes. I don’t see why not. Unless you feel burdened by my prese-”

“No, not at all!! It’s usually me who has to say that, so… You’ve been nothing but a great f…”

Grimnir was choking on his last syllable again, exhibiting all the same symptoms that followed the first time he did: glowing brush on his cheeks and his gaze falling to the floor. Freyr felt obligated to provide assistance before he hurt himself twisting his fingers so hard. 

“...Friend?” - Even his own cheeks felt heated now. Freyr suddenly understood Grimnir’s hesitation. The small bud of warmth in his stomach had begun to bloom profusely the moment the word left his mouth. 

“Y-Yeah! We’re friends now, right!?”

“I guess we are.” 

“Yay!! I… mean…” - Grimnir stopped himself a fraction of a second short of tackling Freyr in a hug, then cleared his throat to regain the bass in his voice. - “So then!! I shall be returning for more of these… uh… lessons in speech impact!”

“I look forward to them.” 

It really was curious how, in spite of the discomfort he had withstood, Freyr was genuinely eager for the next bout of similar experiences. Having good company to spend such times with might have accounted for the enthusiasm. 

“Ah. But in return, can you show me how to…” - Grimnir was suddenly the one to mumble his words now. - “...be as cool as you are?”

“Oh…” 

Neither could tell since when they had made a contest of blushing, but both fervently hoped that the other’s tolerance for their awkwardness would grow with time.

“Uhm, I guess I could help you in terms of… basic etiquette and thoughtful articulation?”

“Yes, those!! So it’s a promise, then?”

“It’s a promise.” 

The combination of Grimnir’s joyous laughter and Freyr’s reserved chuckles rang through the winding halls. Even Gullinbursti, who had returned to its nest of cushions, let out a few pleased grunts at the sudden gust of liveliness permeating the castle.

“Oh, can I request something in advance?” - Grimnir was the first to speak up again.

“Yes, anything at all.” - Freyr replied.

“To be honest, I’m quite sick of tea from Shiva and Europa pushing it on me every time I come to their places so… Can you make me cocoa when I’m here next time?”

Freyr’s laughter was quick to resume.

“Of course, with pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> A popular joke among Japanese players immediately following the last fire gw is that Freyr is REALLY quiet. He’s so quiet his lines got drowned out by the bgm. Also according to his lines, Freyr disdains violence and only fights because he has to. Until Cygames gives us more Freyr material, an awkward, quiet pacifist who is a little shy will be how I characterise him. GIVE US MORE FREYR YOU COWARDS.
> 
> I really grew to love Grimnir and Freyr as a duo thanks to fanart, and this fic is sort of a compilation of all the conversations I wish they could have together. Thanks for reading! Come over to my twitter @vanishingapples to yell at me maybe.


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